Yours, Mine & Ours
by TrenchcoatsAreSexy
Summary: Initially for a prompt on the BB Kink Meme - Jesse is sold from Jack to Merle, but Daryl has different plans for him - a mission he's not sure they will emerge from unscathed.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

Jesse could hear hushed voices, filtering into his grate, the way that sun did sometimes in the early hours, in tiny slits that weren't real enough to quench his need to see the real sun, to be outside, to be free. It was the lab and this grate every single day. He'd lost track of the days with no real way to count them, but it must have been months, had to have been months.

Maybe today, maybe today was the day they ended it for him, put him out of his misery so he could rest at last without Jesse and Andrea paying for it. It'd be oh so good to sleep. Just sleep, forever.

He was sick, probably from the lab and the fact that they didn't bother to give him a mask, the fact that he didn't have an actual bed and the fact that he hadn't had a bath since he had come here. His hands were infected where they'd removed his nails one day and they were swollen over… He had no hope. His last hope had been Mr. White. And Mr. White had left him here for spite.

He thought of Jane, of her pretty, soft black hair and her kind eyes. At least she wasn't in danger. She was sleeping. She hadn't suffered, and maybe, just maybe he'd be with her soon. Maybe he had suffered enough for that one bit of peace, back in her arms.

"Yeah, I know, but we were just going to kill him anyway. Plus this settles my debt." He recognized the voice as the man that Todd called Uncle Jack.

"What kinda debt you got with this guy, anyway?" That was Kenny, Jack's right hand.

"Business dealings I couldn't deliver on. Merle let me off the hook, but I owe him one. He said he's interested in what I can provide with our little captive here. We don't have any use for him anymore."

Jesse shivered. They were going to sell him. Sell him, or give him away… God, this could only get worse.

They opened the grate and Jesse started pleading desperately.

"I'll be good, I swear… I don't want… please don't."

"Shut up," Jack grumbled, "I'll be glad to be done with your whining once and for all."

Jesse shut his eyes, trying to stop the tears that started to flow from them. When would he be done? Wasn't this enough for whoever was up there watching?

He felt them yank the chain, and his entire body flooded with pain, leaving him unable to even scream. Before he could react properly to that, he found himself lifted and shoved into the trunk of a car.

 _God, not another trunk, please._

He was too old to be frightened of the dark, but terror tensed up every bone in his body. Where were they going? What horrible thing could be waiting around the next corner? Was he going to be harvested for organs? Medical research? Just as a sex slave?

"Please," he whispered against the dark. There wasn't any answer.

* * *

Jesse must have slept, but it was hard to tell. The next thing he knew, there was real light shining down on him. He was still in the trunk and there was a man looking down at him. A man with short brown hair that was awkwardly cut, who was looking at him with curiosity.

"Seriously?" the man asked.

"Hey, don't look at us. This is what your brother wanted," Jack commented. The man looked at him with a bemused gaze.

"You know there's a man in there," he commented.

Jack rolled his eyes.

"If you can call him that. He's a pathetic little rat we got ahold of. Cooked for us, but we don't have much need of him anymore. Your brother can do what he wants with him. He don't put up much of a fight."

Jesse was surprised to see the man's eyes soften a little. Or maybe it was his imagination, false hope again.

"All right," the man said eventually, "Let me put him in my car. If Merle says the debt's repaid, he'll let you know." He reached out and easily picked up Jesse, so skinny and light now, and Jesse shivered, too terrified to even struggle. He'd be in another trunk, in another… but Jesse was confused as the man opened a door and placed him across two leather seats. He could hear Jack and Kenny laughing hysterically behind him, and could feel rather than see Todd's calm smile. Jesse curled into a ball, too terrified to move.

"Glad I didn't take the bike," Jesse heard the man mutter, "Merle needs to give me a heads up next time. Is that so much to ask?"

There was the sound of the car starting up, pulling off the dirt road and going…somewhere. Jesse stayed glued to his spot, unable to see anything except his own tattered pants, his head pressed hard against one of his knees.

"Hey."

Jesse wasn't sure if he actually heard the word, or if it was all in his head until it was repeated.

"Hey."

He should say something in reply, shouldn't he? Would he get beaten worse if he replied, seen as a smartass, or if he didn't, seen as being rude and get beaten for that?

He uncurled slightly, not daring to raise his eyes.

"Hey," he replied.

"You got a name?" the man inquired. The question almost threw Jesse for a loop. It'd been months since anyone had called him by his name. Even that harsh, exasperated growl that was in the back of his head – "JESSE! What is WRONG with you?" – seemed like it was addressing someone else.

Finally he managed, in a frightened voice, "Jesse."

He'd seen enough movies to picture a reply – That's not your name. You don't have a name. You're property. You're dirt. You're…

"Hey, Jesse. I'm Daryl. Nice to meet you. Not best of circumstances."

* * *

Jesse must have passed out in the back seat. Compared to the hard concrete, it was the most comfortable surface he had ever experienced.

When he stirred awake, he'd been uncuffed and was still lying across the backseat, with the man… Daryl… craning his head out of the open window and arguing with someone.

"Merle, what the hell is your problem?"

Jesse couldn't see the other person, could only hear his voice, deep and low and with more of a Southern accent than Daryl's.

"Listen baby brother, I'm glad you came through for me, but you can just hand over the merchandise and we can get back to business."

"Merle, that's a guy back there, and I'm not real okay with this. What do you even want him for?"

"Hell if I know. I hooked Jack up a while back and I wanted him to pay up… instead he offered me his former meth cook. Said he was a pretty little thing too. I'm sure we can figure out something to do with him."

"So basically… you bought a slave… and you don't even know why?"

"How many people nowadays can say they've got one, Daryl?"

Daryl sighed in exasperation.

"How about this, Merle… Why don't you leave him to me? I'll look after him. He could help me with…" He trailed off. "But first he needs a hell of a lot of recuperation." Merle, whoever that was, apparently Daryl's brother, laughed.

"Sure. Fuck if I care. Don't say I never gave you nothing, baby brother."

Jesse heard footsteps walking away, tapping against gravel. Then Daryl was back, looking at him, too quick for Jesse to curl back up in safety. Jesse made a little squeak sound of fear and tried to hide his head.

"Hey," Daryl coaxed, and Jesse raised his head in surprise. "You hungry?"

Jesse looked up, daring slightly to meet Daryl's eyes. Looking at him straight on, with his good eye at least, he noticed the kinder gaze again, and hesitated, not sure whether to hope that this could be true.

"Wendy's okay? This is some… chicken bacon thing." Daryl extended his hand, and Jesse hesitated again. Back in the compound, everything had been conditional. Food and water, and even then a lot of the water had tasty salty and the food had been crusts left over from when Todd and the others ordered pizza, which was about twice a week. He was pretty sure they'd spit on it on purpose, too.

Jesse opened his good eye wide.

"Please," he begged, realizing suddenly just how much his stomach ached. He was thirsty, too. "And… and water please?" He was desperate.

To his surprise, Daryl handed him the wrapped sandwich without toying with him, and reached down and handed him a bottle of water, pressing it into his other hand.

"Dig in," he commented. "Would've asked what you wanted, but you were out cold. Figured I'd let you sleep. You seemed to need it."

Jesse nodded very slowly, staring back and forth between his hands and trying to decide which to deal with first. He eventually settle with glancing at the sandwich on the leather seat and opening the water bottle with that hand, pouring it into his mouth needily.

"Thank you," he whispered, as the water seemed to flow over his tongue, relieving some of the parched feeling he'd been carrying for months now.

"Hey, no problem," Daryl told him. "You need to get your strength up, I'll be bringing you back to my place."

"Wait," Jesse whispered, "Andrea and Brock… I…"

Daryl looked at him, and Jesse immediately wondered if he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe he had just passed them as a trump card from one captor to another. But something in Daryl seemed… seemed different. Seemed safer.

"Who are they?"

"My… my ex and her little boy. Those other guys know where they live, they threatened to hurt them… I…"

Daryl opened the driver's side door and walked around to open Jesse's door.

"I'll call in some favors, get some guys to watch out for them and make sure they're safe."

Jesse curled up and started to sob in relief, wishing that he could stop crying. Why did he keep crying?

"Hey," Daryl told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jesse flinched away from the touch. "As soon as I'm done with my business, I'll drop you off right where they are. All three of you will be safe and sound, okay? Unless, I mean, you don't want to since she's an ex."

Jesse shook his head.

"No… Bring me there. Please. I love them. I… what's your business? Do you want me to cook? I can cook… 96%..."

"Listen. I don't need you to cook," Daryl cut him off. "I've got a problem I need to solve and I need an extra man for backup."

"What… what kind of problem?" Jesse raised his head, and Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture. A glossy photo of a woman with short, cropped blonde hair and a little girl. "Who're they?"

"My girlfriend and her daughter. They've been kidnapped, and we're going to bring them home."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Jesse blinked as he stared at the picture. It reminded him so much of that horrible candid shot of Andrea and Brock that he had stared at every day in the lab, terrified that he wouldn't be good enough or that Jack and his crew would just decide to hurt or kill them for fun.

"What's their names?" Jesse asked quietly. Just a picture didn't ever sum up a person, but he could tell a few things looking at it. The woman looked older in her eyes than in her face, for one, like she had been through a lot. She was smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. It looked forced.

The little girl looked haunted, too. There was a sadness in her eyes, a nervousness.

"My girlfriend, she's Carol," Daryl pointed at the blonde woman. "Yeah, I know. Carol and Daryl. Real funny."

Jesse didn't laugh. He was pretty sure that he no longer knew how to, even if he wanted to. Instead he just blinked at the man, wondering what all this was leading to. Maybe it was all just one big scam by Jack's crew to break his spirit. To sell him to another master who would turn out to be that much worse than the one he had left.

"And her little girl is Sophia. She's just twelve years old."

Jesse nodded, but he still didn't know what that had to do with him.

"I need manpower," Daryl told him. "I mean, I've got Merle of course, but I need more than that. This guy, Ed, he's pretty hard to find and he's a crazy, evil man. He's hurt Carol a lot before and I'm worried that he'll hurt Sophia too. And if that happens, he's a dead man. Hell, he's already a dead man, I just need to find him first."

Jesse gave a slow nod. He'd done surveillance with Mike before, of course, or acted as a lookout, but could he really function at all right now, in this state? He felt pretty useless.

"But Daryl," Jesse began, cringing slightly as he said the name. Maybe he wanted him to call him "sir" or something like that; Jesse still had a part of him that worried that the older man was going to turn bad, and fast. And he'd told him about Andrea and Brock – how had he been so stupid? He had handed over leverage like it was nothing! "I don't know how much of a help I can be… I mean… You see…" He trailed off, looking down in shame.

"You'll need some help to get up back into fighting shape," Daryl told him. "But I'll help you. And I'll train you. I'm good with a gun, good with a crossbow too."

"A crossbow?" Jesse inquired, "How often do you need a crossbow in a fight?"

"You'd be surprised," Daryl told him. "All right, come inside. We'll get you set up." Jesse nervously followed Daryl up to the front door of a dilapidated house that looked like it was falling apart at the seams. "Ain't much, but it's ours," Daryl told him. Jesse was just happy to see anywhere that wasn't the compound. He could have kissed the chipped paint and cracked steps.

* * *

Daryl led Jesse to a small back bedroom that consisted of a bed, a desk, and an old beanbag chair. Again, compared to his most recent living quarters, Jesse felt like he was in Heaven. He laid back on the bed, tired enough to sink against the mattress but far too worked up to actually shut his eyes and fall asleep.

Daryl seemed to notice.

"Listen, Jesse. Let me give it to you straight, okay? Merle's a rough kinda guy but if I say no, he won't hurt you. And I won't hurt you, either."

Jesse looked at him nervously.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you right now," he told him. "The last couple months I… And they know where Andrea and Brock are. I need to get back to them, to protect them. I don't even know where I am right now, or really why I'm here or how I can help you."

"Right now, Jesse," Daryl said, words rolling over his Southern accent with a nice ring to it that Jesse was unnerved that he felt comforted by, "All I need you to do is get some rest and heal up. Think you can help me with that?"

Jesse nodded, still shaking a little, shy and wanting to drink in the kindness even though he equal parts felt he didn't deserve it and thought it was all a game, a joke, or that he'd push some button that would turn on whatever dark side Daryl had. Or maybe it wouldn't even be Daryl but that brother of his, Merle; maybe he didn't really listen to Daryl and after that first night he'd be chained outside like a dog shivering in the cold and maybe the rain.

"Daryl?" Jesse asked as he pulled a blanket over himself, wanting to hide in it forever and not let anything touch him ever again. "Can you tell me about yourself? I mean… you… Merle bought me? How does that work?" He kept his voice low, as if not to disturb him, as if not to make him angry.

"Not much to tell, Jesse," Daryl replied, "We're just two fuck-ups. I've got two good things in my life and that's Carol and that little girl. Other than that, I haven't really done much. Just… just lived I guess. Merle and I have been in trouble as long as we can remember."

"But you always had each other, right?" Jesse spoke up quietly. "That must have been nice, right…? I have a brother but… we've never been close. I'm a lot older." Jesse cursed himself for letting that out, too. Now he would make Jake a target if Daryl turned out to be a bad person… But something in him was urging him to trust Daryl, to listen to him, to let him help him. Maybe it had just been too long since Jesse could trust anyone at all. Maybe he just needed this.

"Yeah… Merle and I always had each other," Daryl agreed. "Get some sleep, okay? I promise… Whatever crazy shit happened to you back on that compound, it's not happening here. I'm not going to let it." With that, Daryl walked out of the room, and Jesse found himself staring after him as he curled up in his blanket. He didn't know whether he could or should sleep, or should stay awake, alert.

He finally decided to try, pulling the blanket over his head and diving into the darkness. It felt softer and warmer than he could remember feeling in months.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

Jesse slept like he'd been awake for years, and it had felt like he had. Every moment, he had to be afraid that Jack or one of the others would be creeping up behind him to punch or kick him, or to say something horrible – sometimes those were the worst, the things they said, the things that they threatened. It made him feel like he was a schoolkid, being teased by some awful bully, but as stupid as Jack's men were they had an uncanny ability to get under Jesse's skin.

He dreamt of being back in the duplex with Jane, of drawing pictures, painting a door again and again. Then he dreamt of sitting on his futon, snuggling with Andrea and playing video games with her and Brock. He dreamt of things he could barely even remember existing; they all seemed like they had belonged to someone else, or maybe that he had seen them in a movie or read them in a book. They were a mystery to him; even in the dreams it didn't seem as if he were really back so much as observing from afar, through a glass.

When he awoke, he found himself staring at the wall, trying to figure it out, trying to see it clearly through the spots that were dancing in front of his eyes. Maybe they had come there because he'd been keeping them open too long, staring at the lab and the candid photo of Andrea and Brock, trying to figure out a way to escape that wouldn't endanger them somehow or even, better yet, a way to warn him. He didn't even care if he ended up dead, as long as the two of them were safe.

Had Mr. White told Jack's crew where they lived? Had he been that cruel? Had he wanted to make sure Jesse couldn't escape from there… or maybe he hoped that he would try, and that Andrea and Brock would pay the price? Jesse remembered what he had said about Jane… maybe he just wanted to take out all the people left in the world who Jesse cared about. Or maybe he was okay with the elimination of the only potential witnesses to his poisoning of Brock.

Maybe… maybe this was all for nothing, and Jack and his men, his crew, had already killed them both just out of spite, maybe right before they decided they didn't need Jesse anymore.

He had to know the truth. Because if Andrea and Brock were gone, if Andrea and Brock were dead somewhere, then there was no point to any of this and he should just give up and put a bullet in his brain the second that he found a gun.

A sudden voice cut him out of his thoughts.

"Morning."

He looked up. It was Daryl; he hadn't heard the other man enter.

"Morning," Jesse mumbled back softly.

"Sleep well?" Daryl continued.

Jesse didn't know whether to nod or shake his head, but it was just as well because Daryl didn't really wait for an answer.

"I hope so," he told him, "Because I need to start training you soon. You need to eat up."

He disappeared to somewhere; Jesse's eyes were too tired to follow to see where he had gone. When he returned, it was with a plate of breakfast – toast and scrambled eggs.

"T-thank you," Jesse stammered. Food again. This man was taking care of him – but why? Wasn't Jesse just a means to an end, just hired help? What did it matter if Jesse had enough to eat?

He wasn't even sure he would be able to eat anymore. This was like a feast compared to what he had been eating.

He slowly picked up the piece of toast and scooped some eggs on top of it, then put another piece on top. He had used to eat this way as a kid – he remembered putting bacon in there too and eating it as a kind of sandwich.

It felt like years since anyone had bothered to make him breakfast. Even before the compound, he barely bothered to eat at all unless he had to.

Jesse opened his mouth and bit in, savoring it.

"Pretty good, huh?" Daryl inquired.

Jesse nodded with a mouth full of egg.

* * *

"Guns come in handy, of course," Daryl explained, "But you can't go wrong with a crossbow, either."

Jesse stared at him.

"A crossbow? Yo, you're planning to go after this guy with a crossbow?"

Daryl looked at him like this was a completely natural conclusion.

"Guns attract noise, attentions. Gets the cops involved. I don't want the cops involved."

Jesse cocked his head to the side.

"Any reason?"

"Don't have much luck with cops," Daryl replied simply.

"Yeah," Jesse replied dryly. "Neither do I." He thought of Hank Schrader, forced down in the sand, Jack putting the gun to his head and cutting him off midsentence. The man hadn't been afraid. Maybe that was some kind of prerequisite for being a cop, maybe you had to not be afraid of anything at all, not even death.

Jesse had been afraid, shivering under the car, panicking, hoping that Mr. White would just let him go, that Jack and his crew wouldn't find him. That he'd be safe, that he would get out of that one because what he saw, eyes wide as Hank died… That wasn't what he wanted. He hadn't liked the man, hadn't ever gotten along with him, but he didn't want that.

Jesse didn't want any more cops getting involved. Didn't want the dead bodies to pile up. The bodies always tended to pile up when he was around, like he had the opposite of the Midas touch, like everything he touched fell apart, wrinkled and fell apart like those lepers did in movies.

"A crossbow," Daryl was saying again, and Jesse looked up, gave a tiny little nod, trying to shake off the past.

"I'm going to learn how to shoot a crossbow."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

Jesse wasn't sure from moment to moment of exactly where he was. Some seconds, he was sure that he was trapped back in the compound, held in shackles, and sometimes he remembered that he was in this strange field with this even stranger man, learning how to shoot a crossbow.

Jesse's arms felt weak as he raised the thing in his arms, trying to figure out how to aim it and only succeeding in it tumbling out of his arms and on to the ground. He wondered if his arms would ever be back to normal again. Maybe they had been in shackles too long. Maybe, even if he got back to Andrea and Brock, he would be limp for the rest of his life. Maybe one day it would be like people on those medical shows where the circulation got cut off for a little too long and they needed to go all _Saw_ on you just so that you could live.

Jesse wondered if Daryl would be willing to go all _Saw_ on him. He shuddered up and down. He didn't think he could let anyone do that…He would probably just curl up and die and wait for the world to take him. Wait to die of exposure, the same way that they used to leave people to die on mountaintops back in the old Roman times. After what had happened at the compound, it didn't even seem that bad of an idea. Only a little bit lonely, but Jesse had been lonely for so long by now that he didn't think it would affect him.

And he would have time to think.

"Jesse?" Daryl asked, and Jesse turned his head on a swivel to listen to him, to look at him.

"What?" he asked. Daryl seemed like he was far away, like he was on the other side of a canyon. Maybe the Grand Canyon. Jesse had never been there, but when he had been a kid he had read about it. In the pictures, it seemed to go on for miles.

But he wasn't in the Grand Canyon, in his head he was… in his head he was back in the compound, chained to the floor and staring at that picture of Andrea and Brock, wondering if he would ever see them again.

"Jesse, you're kind of zoning out," Daryl said. He reached out and nudged Jesse's shoulder with his hand, like he kind of wanted to put his hand on his shoulder but was physically incapable of doing so. It made sense; Daryl didn't seem like the kind of guy who got warm and fuzzy with anybody, ever.

Jesse shook his head, trying to clear out all of the thoughts. He stared around himself, trying to remember where he was and what was going on. He was at this place, with Daryl. Right now, he was safe. He hoped, at least.

Whatever Daryl had been about to say after that, he was cut off, as loud footsteps cracked over the rocks that were behind him. Jesse reflexively flinched; it was like the walk the men in the compound had entered the lab with, the way they had entered the grate, the way they had walked around it. It had reminded him of when he had been a kid and workmen had had to come over the house and do remodeling or fix things that had been broken, the way they had seemed to walk around like they owned the place, and Jesse, sensitive even then, hadn't liked it one bit.

He had had these strange fears, right under his skin, that they would steal something, something that belonged to him, or maybe even someone. He used to have recurring dreams about them picking up Jake, back when Jake was still a baby, and carrying him far away. He didn't know what would happen to him there, in that place, but he knew it would be nothing good.

When he heard Merle's steps though, instead of this strange kidnapping of Jake by some TV repairman gone wrong, he pictured himself being picked up and carried away to another grate, another dungeon, an iron maiden.

"What's up with your new pup, Daryl?" Merle asked meanly. Jesse shut his eyes a little bit; a comment like that couldn't really lead to anything good, now could it? That was usually how what Jesse had called in his head "the sessions" started. He didn't want another one, not when this man had brought him food, had made him feel safe… But Jesse should know better than to ever feel safe again, shouldn't he? It was far too dangerous, and he didn't deserve it, not after all he had done.

"Merle, leave it," Daryl barked in response. "I don't need to hear your bullshit. I got enough on my plate so you can either help me or you can fuck off like you usually do."

"C'mon, little brother," Merle responded, seeming to ignore Jesse now, to Jesse's relief. "Don't be like that just because you got this woman, now. You got to remember who you had when you had nobody."

"Yeah, that's just it." Jesse peeked up, frightened, and saw Daryl stepping up, right in Merle's face. They were going to fight, Jesse was sure of it. "I never had you, Merle. You left me all alone. So unless you wanna fight right here, right now – and trust me, I'll kick your ass with one hand tied behind my back – then you get out of here unless you got something to say that's important."

Merle glared at him, then let out a sigh, the sort of sigh that one gives to indicate that you can't choose your family.

"We might wanna be moving on," he said, "I got a call from our ol' buddy Jack and he's having second thoughts about this deal. Think he wants your pup back from the pound."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

Jesse must have hit the ground without realizing it, because the next thing he knew, he was staring up at the pitch black sky. He could see the stars, could see constellations. They didn't seem to form any kind of patterns, though. Not unless someone drew lines through them and pointed out the obvious for Jesse. He was always missing the obvious, it seemed.

"You're up," said a voice. Jesse rolled over and found himself looking at Daryl, who was crouched on his knees in front of him and looking down, concerned.

"Where was I?" Jesse mumbled. He raised his hand to his head, rubbing it. He was aching all over, like he'd hit something hard. He probably had – the ground couldn't have been too soft.

"Think we've been working you too hard. Need to take a rest," Daryl said, and Jesse sensed some disappointment in the voice, but also something he didn't expect. There was something like… worry. Care. Could it be that this man actually cared for him, beyond using him as manpower to get back what was important to him?

"I can work," Jesse whispered, "I'll work hard."

"Don't work too hard," Daryl told him, offering his hand to help him up. "You seem to go in and out of it."

Jesse pursed his lips. He didn't know how much he could tell the other man about what had happened – how much could he even admit to himself? He lived in two worlds, one that was the present, which was blurry and out of focus and hard to get a grip on, and the crystal-clear past that was tinged with red. So much red, every time their fists had rained down on him because they had been bored and he had been there. Sometimes, by the end, by the time they had sold him, he almost looked forward to it. Because the long nights when they didn't come were so, so much worse. The nights when he would try desperately to scramble up to the top of the grate, not because he thought he could escape but because then, maybe, he could hear something other than silence and the screaming that was always going on inside his head.

Sometimes he had heard Jane's voice, and he had been sure that she was there somehow, looking at him and judging him. Telling him that he should have known all along what Mr. White had done, but that he'd been blind to it; that he'd been looking at the man as some kind of father figure and had excused every awful thing he'd done. Even Jane, even Brock… even though the latter he had suspected at first. Why hadn't he listened to his instincts on that one?

Because if he had, he would have had no one. He would have been alone in the world.

Jesse slowly took Daryl's hand, but he kept staring at it as he stood up. He kept wondering when Daryl would turn on him, too. It wasn't like he would want to get into some kind of battle with Jack. No matter what he had initially wanted Jesse for, Jesse figured that Daryl would decide it just wasn't worth it.

And once he was locked back in the grate, he would never ever get out again. His life would be in the lab, cooking, and laying on that mattress until death came up and took him. He just needed to accept that.

Jesse spoke up quietly, against all his own instincts. '

"Please don't let them take me back."

Daryl stared at him.

"Of course I won't let them take you back! You're mine now. You're my responsibility, and I'm going to protect you. Merle will, too, whether he likes it or not, okay?" He put a hand on Jesse's shoulder and squeezed it, then let go a moment later after he started looking uncomfortable. "We're a team. And a team… that's not how a team operates, that's it. Don't worry about anything except getting your strength up, because we're going to need it, and you might need it sooner rather than later if this is true."

"I don't want to go back."

Daryl sighed and put his arms out.

"Do I need to get all kinds of sappy with you? 'Cause let's face it, I don't really know how to do that, okay? But I promise I won't let those bastards take you back. I'll fight them first, and I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I'm pretty damn tough when I put my mind to it."

Jesse's head was swimming as he tried to figure out if he could trust Daryl or not. Was this genuine affection or was another person playing a mind game with him?

He tossed it around in his head before coming to the conclusion that he could only assume it was genuine. He needed, well, what he had always needed maybe, and that was a friend. An ally.

"Okay," Jesse whispered, "I… I'm going to try to trust you." Daryl smiled.

"I know trust doesn't come easily most places. Especially these days. The number of people I can trust is few and far between. Right now, it's just Merle. But you… I can see something in you. Maybe one day that number can be two people."

"Well, listen, you two lovebirds better shape up," snarled a voice. It was Merle, and he was holding a shotgun, nearly caressing it. "'Cause dear old Jack and his crew are here and they ain't takin' no for an answer. I tried to tell 'em finders keepers but someone ain't never taught any of them any manners." He narrowed his eyes at Jesse. "You better fight. I didn't take you on to make you any dead weight. If you're gonna be dead weight, I might as well give you back to Jack, anyhow."

"He's not going back," Daryl spoke up firmly, raising the crossbow. "If it's a fight they want… well, I have manners. And I'm not gonna disappoint."


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

Jack Welker was standing in front of Merle and Daryl's house, with a gun in his hand and a fed-up look on his face.

Merle was staring right back at him.

"We had a deal, Jack Welker. Either you've got my money or you're getting the hell off my lawn, because I'm not a fan of this takesies-backsies bullshit."

"I decided," Jack replied, "I've got your money, and then some. You've just got to give us our rat back. I'll pay you for your trouble."

Jesse stood behind Daryl, nearly clinging to his leg with fright.

"He ain't coming back with you," Daryl declared. "He's with us now. He don't belong you to and actually, he never did."

"Merle? Tell your brother he needs to learn how to see sense. If he's going to take a stand, why bother to make it over this little pissant right here? He's just a rat anyway, but my Toddy took a liking to him and he wants him back. So I'm getting him back." Daryl turned to look at Jesse in horror.

Jesse was about to curl into a ball. He couldn't go back there. He would rather just stay here, rather stay here and die. Even if he didn't trust Daryl yet, and wasn't sure that he could ever trust anybody again, it was better here, where no one hurt him. Better here, where they fed him and seemed to want him for something other than working him until his hands bled and then killing him off when he got too convenient.

Maybe it had all been a trick. Maybe they had done this to play with him, to mock him and make him think he was out when he wasn't. Like a cat letting a mouse go, only to grab it back in its paws, let him go again, and then keep up the game until he was bored with it.

That seemed like them. That seemed like Jack especially.

Unbidden, Jesse whispered in Daryl's ear, "No… Don't."

"Don't worry," Daryl growled back, "You're not going anywhere."

Jesse didn't even know where Daryl grabbed the crossbow from. It was all so fast that his head was spinning, or maybe the time in the compound had done something to his brain. Maybe it had rotted it out; seawater had gotten in and everything had gone moldy. Time didn't make any sense anymore.

Only Daryl made sense; Jesse's eyes zeroed in on Daryl as he lifted the crossbow and pointed it straight at Jack.

"Don't make me," Daryl told him firmly. "I don't wanna, but I will if I hafta. I need him for plans of my own, so finders keepers you son of a bitch. Don't you come around here no more, don't you come around here ever again trying to kidnap him. It's a down dirty thing you did to him anyway."

"You're really pointing a crossbow at me? You don't have the…"

Jesse's head whipped around at the sound of the crossbow unleashing an arrow in Jack's direction. The older man let out a yowl and moved his hand to his arm. Jesse couldn't look. He could see blood spurting, pooling on the ground.

"No…" he muttered, but he didn't even know what he was saying "no" about. If Jack was dead, that meant an end to his problems, didn't it? But he still couldn't feel comfortable with death, with corpses lying around him. With barrels, with pink globs falling from his ceiling. "No, don't kill him…" Jesse didn't know why the words were coming out of his mouth. They weren't coming out very loudly, however. He was being drowned out by Jack's yells.

"Worry about that later!" he was raging at Kenny. "Get me the hell out of here! We'll deal with the rat and all of them later! I think my damn shoulder is about to fall off!"

Kenny looked from Jack to the holster on his hip and then back again. Daryl shifted his own shoulder, pointing the crossbow in Kenny's direction.

"You like one?" he inquired.

Kenny shook his head and put up his hand.

"No need to be like that, okay?" He started to back away, before learning down and grabbing Jack's arm.

"Not there!" Jack yelped. "Not there!" Kenny went to grab the other shoulder and Jack continued to scream.

When they'd taken off, there was blood soaked into the dirt, where Jack had been. Jesse looked on in confusion, his eyesight blurry and his heart racing.

"Daryl…" he whispered, "I'm sorry that I wasn't much use, I…"

Merle stared at the two of them.

"You're both useless," he told them gruffly and walked back inside.

"It's okay," Daryl told him, seeming to ignore Merle entirely. "That's just the way he is." He offered Jesse his hand. "We're going to go back inside. But we had better be on the move by morning – otherwise we might run into your old friends again, and I'm not really in the mood for them."

Jesse shook his head and stammered, "Y-yeah… Neither… neither am I." He was shaking, and Daryl put his hand on his shoulder. It seemed so bony in his hands… He must have lost weight. "Daryl," he whispered, looking up and wondering what the man really wanted from him in all of this.

Daryl smiled back at him, for just a second.

"We're going to have to be moving on a lot, until everything is done," he told him. "Are you ready for that?"

Jesse nodded.

"You saved me… twice. Anything you, you need me to do! I'll do it." He dragged his hand over his face. "I just… at the end of this… I'll see them again, right?" His voice started to break a little. "I miss them… I don't…know if I could remember what they look like, without… without the picture."

Daryl put a hand on his shoulder.

"You won't need it, soon enough," he promised.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

"So tell me about your lady friend," Jesse asked Daryl. He wasn't sure if he'd picked up that phraseology from Daryl himself or from Jack, and that made Jesse uncomfortable. Maybe he had lived in that grate for so long that he'd begun to talk like them, think like them. Maybe he'd go home to Andrea and discover that he'd grown into one of them – that he was hollow on the inside like Todd and the rest of them had to be by now, or always had been. They were standing outside the little house, and Daryl had his hand draped over his motorcycle like it was the prettiest woman at a dance.

"My lady friend?" Daryl said with a chuckle. "Well, her name's Carol – yeah, Daryl and Carol. Get it out of your system already. It's really not that funny." Jesse hadn't been about to half – it had been a long time since he had found anything very funny at all – but now he cracked a smile.

"What made you fall in love with her?"

"What, we're talking love now? Bells and whistles and hearts and flowers? That's not really the way my mind works." But Daryl was smiling now, too. It was odd, the sort of easiness creeping up between them.

"Well, what made you want to go on this crazy road trip and rescue me to go find her, then?"

"Why do I need a reason to do anything?" Daryl asked, reaching up to pick at his teeth. "She's a good person. She doesn't deserve to be with that waste. Especially not to get kidnapped by him. I think havin' a problem with kidnapping doesn't really make me unique. What d'you think, Jesse? What about your own lady friend? What'd you say her name was?"

The heat flashed into Jesse's cheeks as he whispered, "Andrea."

"Tell me about her."

"She's… We haven't been dating all that long, but…And I mean… we actually broke up. I mean that I broke up with her. But I still care about her."

"Okaaaaay," Daryl drawled.

"I broke up with her to protect her. For this reason. Because what I do… what I did… is so dangerous. I couldn't tell her about it. My… partner… told me to tell her everything. Said I should be honest with her, but I couldn't tell her so I broke it off. Now she's in danger and I can't even do anything to help her."

Daryl groaned.

"Don't start crying. I don't really do touchy-feely. You show you love someone because you'll do anything to protect them, not because you burst into tears every time you see them or every time you think you did something to hurt them. We'll get them safe – but your girl might be in danger, mine definitely this. This fella Ed, he's a real piece of shit and the only time he'll stop is when he's safely in the ground with a bullet in his head."

"Isn't it the same with Jack?" Jesse spoke up. "Isn't that the only way he'll be done for real?"

"Yeah, but I think we scared him away for a good while." Daryl grinned. "Listen, I've got to go have it out with Merle, and then we gotta get going, before they get back."

Daryl departed, and Jesse stayed. He moved closer to the motorcycle; it had some sort of way of exuding Daryl's energy when the man wasn't there. Maybe he had pumped himself inside it as much as he did gas.

Jesse reluctantly rested a hand on the motorcycle, feeling the cool metal brushing up against him. It was silly, he knew, but it made him feel safe. It made him feel that if anyone tried to hurt him again, Daryl would stop them.

If only Daryl had been there, at the compound. Jesse wouldn't have been so frightened. Jesse would have known there was hope.

He didn't know whether to trust this feeling. One day, it had been Mr. White rescuing him out of a chained lab, only to put him right back into another. How was he sure that wouldn't all happen again?

He could hear voices in the house, but not what they were saying. He began to shake; he closed his hand around the motorcycle's seat and held on, whispering a silent prayer that Daryl wouldn't want to get rid of him, that he would continue to protect him. That history wouldn't repeat himself.

He shut his eyes. Where was Mr. White now? Had he been telling the truth when he told Jesse his cancer was back? Would he come looking for him, and if so, to what purpose? Maybe it was best that Jesse and Daryl would keep moving.

Or maybe Mr. White was dead and in the ground. If he was, Jesse didn't know how to feel about that. It would mean they'd never be able to sort it out, not for good; Jesse wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes and say that he had survived despite him, despite him betraying Jesse and selling him to these butchers.

Or had it been Jesse who had betrayed Mr. White first? Maybe this was another thing that he deserved for being the bad guy, for being the wrong one and not giving up.

The door opened, and Jesse's hands flew off the motorcycle. It was a habit he'd learned in the compound – anything he hadn't been specifically told to be doing, he needed to break apart from as soon as those in power got back.

But Daryl wasn't mad, thankfully – he was smiling at Jesse. Jesse felt his cheeks flush, and he didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded.

"Daryl," he said quietly. There must be some kind of good news.

"Jesse," Daryl replied. "Grab your stuff and hop on." He touched the motorcycle. "We're leaving now. Let's bring them home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

Jesse could feel the wind blowing through his hair, and he almost let out a very-unmanly squeak at the feel; he was clinging to Daryl's hips and trying to not feel weird about the whole thing. After all, it wasn't like he had never been on a motorcycle before. But those times seemed like worlds away, or as if they had happened to another person. A person who had never been down in the pit, never feared for the life of everyone he ever loved. A person who wasn't riding off into the dark, not sure what he would find there.

They stopped off at a little clearing after they had been riding for several hours.

"We'll set up a camp here tonight," Daryl told him, and Jesse looked at him, confused.

"With what?"

"You don't need much, y'know. We just need to find some firewood and hope it don't decide to rain. If it decides to rain, well, we'll try and find some trees and hope it doesn't decide to lightning."

Jesse decided not to ask about what Daryl's plan was if it decided to lightning, since he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it.

Gathering firewood wasn't as difficult as Jesse had thought it would be. As much as he'd lost energy and weight at the compound, he had gained some kind of strange resolve that seemed to allow him to carry uncomfortable amounts of large objects for long periods of time without giving up. Or maybe that had been the training he'd been going through with Daryl, or just all of the crazy things that he happened in his life over the past two years. Either way, before Jesse knew it, there was a stack of firewood and Daryl had lit it.

"The fire's warmer than I thought it would be," Jesse mused, thinking of that stupid campfire talk back at his rehab center, where the group leader had laid it on him that he'd run over his own damn kid. He had felt so cold then, all the time, after Jane had been gone.

He'd give anything to be that level of desperate again. He hadn't thought that it could get any worse, but as always, life had come along and proved Jesse wrong. At least he had Daryl, though. Daryl seemed like he wouldn't let him down.

He had to cling to that.

He wanted to say more, to say anything at all. To thank him, for taking him under his wing and for caring about him. He had a feeling that Daryl wasn't one to enjoy hearing somebody get all sappy with him, however, and he couldn't afford to end up looking like dead weight. It was hard to forget the things the men at the compound had said about him, the way that they had called him a "pussy"; as much as he hated all of them, he couldn't help but wonder if they might have had a point there.

His throat was raw, bone dry. Maybe there was some water around, maybe he should speak up for that. That could be his excuse, at least, and then maybe he could find a way to say everything he'd been thinking. Thoughts tended to tumble out of Jesse, and it had always gotten him in trouble. He wished he could lock them up safe the way he had tried to long ago, flashing a pair of middle fingers and hiding in baggy clothes so no one could see when he was vulnerable. Now, everyone knew, at least it seemed that way.

"Hey Daryl," he said, at last, and mentally patted himself on the back for managing to say anything at all. "So… Can you tell me about yourself? I mean, I feel like we've spent all this time together, that you… that you saved me, even, but that I don't know much about you at all. I mean, you know some stuff about me, and I know about you and Carol and Sophia, but not about, I mean, about you exactly." He could almost feel his jaw slamming shut, and he regretted the words as soon as they made their way out.

Daryl shook his head.

"You don't want to know about me. There's not really much to tell." He paused and seemed to consider it, then sighed again. "Well, it's been me and Merle for a long while now. We had a dad, once, but he… wasn't much. Don't remember our mom much at all, either. I was pretty young when she… Was always Merle and me."

That made Jesse wonder about Jake, wonder whether he could have kept himself in line more and been there for him. Where was his younger brother now, even? He hadn't seen him in at least two years. The kid would be fourteen, now, and Jesse hadn't seen him…

"You guys must be pretty close, then," Jesse ventured.

Daryl made a murmuring sound.

"Yeah. I mean, we've had our troubles. My childhood was pretty rough when he was around, but it was hell when he wasn't. Nobody in the world cared for me like he did. And even he's a damn mess half of the time. He took off when I was… twelve, maybe? Eventually found him again, haven't been apart since. 'Til now, at least. It's gonna be hard."

"Maybe… Maybe we'll get this all done quick," Jesse said hopefully. He thought of Andrea, of holding her close and burying his face in her hair, of telling her how much he loved her and had missed her, how he would never let her go again.

Unless she had already found someone new… That was something that could happen.

Jesse couldn't pretend it wouldn't hurt… But if she was safe… If she was safe, that would always be enough. There had been too much death, too much pain. He needed her to have a smile, even if it wasn't for him.

Jesse watched the embers burn down, and he looked at Daryl.

"Guess we better call it a night," he said quietly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part Nine**

Jesse's dreams were full of monsters and madness, of hands gripping him from every direction and pulling him down into a river of blood. There was red flowing into his nose, his throat, choking him and not ever letting him go. He tried to grip for something, anything or anyone; he wondered where Daryl was – had he left Jesse alone? Was he tired of him? Was he just like the others? Like Mr. White, like…

"Jesse… Jesse!"

Someone was shaking him, someone was pulling him out… but where? There was blood everywhere, he was trying to push through it, but it was no use…

"Jesse!"

Suddenly his eyes few open and he found himself staring into Daryl's eyes. He must have been yelling or screaming or maybe even wailing, because his mouth was open.

"You were talking in your sleep and jerking around. Thought you might be having a seizure," Daryl explained matter-of-factly. Jesse shuddered, trying to remind himself that he was out of whatever place he had been in, that he was free, that he was safe at last.

The fire had gone out at some point during the night, and Jesse wrapped his arms around himself to try to stay warm.

"We should go," Daryl said, "If we want to make good time, that is."

"Where are we making good time to? Do we know where they are?"

"Not exactly. I know someone who'll know, though. He might need a bit of convincing, though."

Jesse's face turned white.

"What kind of convincing?"

"Don't look at me like that." Daryl reached out and gently tapped Jesse's shoulder. "I won't hurt him. We'll just… figure it out as we go on. I know him. He'll see reason eventually."

Jesse slowly nodded; what else could he do, at this point? But he still shivered as soon as Daryl turned away, still remembered dissolving bodies in acid and watching the body count rise to the point that he couldn't count it anymore. Too many names, too many lives.

It felt like someone was standing on his chest to think about it; it felt like he was weighing his own soul and finding it a lead weight.

Yet he climbed on the back of Daryl's bike, and he held on for dear life.

* * *

They must have driven miles, and Jesse lost track after a while – every space on the open road seemed to look exactly the same, and seemed to blend into one another, almost as if the tiny houses and farmland were bleeding into each other, as if they had been cut open.

Jesse slumped, after a few hours, or maybe a few days, against Daryl's arm, and the other man slowed down then.

Jesse found himself being incredibly grateful; others would have just let him fall off, fall into nothing at all and fade into oblivion.

"It's time to rest, I guess," Daryl told him, and pulled off into a small motel parking lot. He helped Jesse off of the bike, and the younger man wondered why they weren't camping again – didn't Daryl want to stay off the beaten path, make sure that neither of them were seen?

It was a good question – who was Daryl hiding from? Or was he just trying to keep Jesse away from Jack, away from the police? Was he doing some of this, most of this for him? Jesse wished he could ask him to stop, to tell him that he didn't deserve this, not really.

"So we're staying here?" Jesse asked. The place looked like it was falling apart – it made the Crystal Palace look like the Hilton, if he was going to be completely honest. Then again, you didn't get any more under the radar than this. Jesse was pretty sure even the roaches would pass by this one.

"That's right." Daryl must have guided him up the rickety metal steps and into the room, but Jesse didn't really remember much of that. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"How are you going to track them, anyway?" Jesse asked. "Do you have a real idea of where they could have gone, or are we just hoping that we'll hear something or that this guy will give us some good information? When are we talking to this guy – and what do you need me for?" Jesse scratched at his head.

"Okay, here's the full plan. I've been coming up with it as we go along, honestly. But this guy has a connection with Ed – that's Carol's ex-husband. They used to work together on some stuff that was pretty shady."

"Not surprised," Jesse mused.

"So we'll go tomorrow and we'll talk to him. He's not far from here. We'll pick up in the morning and walk there, then come back here and lay low for the rest of the night. I don't want the cops or Ed getting a whiff of what we're up to, so…"

Jesse was listening, or trying to at least. Sleep seemed to be cradling him, seemed to be drumming on his temple and refusing to let him go. There was a fear in it, however, something that was hanging around his neck and whispering in his ear.

"Tomorrow we go find this guy, and I…I do what, Daryl?" Jesse asked. "I'm not sure if you've missed it, but I'm sort of a mess. Yeah, we've been training, I know, but if it actually… Actually comes down to it, if you're in actual danger, than I…" Jesse remembered Mike, remembered putting the gun up and shooting that man in Mexico, remembered staring at his own hands after like it had been someone else who had done it. Remembered holding Mike in his hands, panicked, sure the older man would die.

Feeling helpless.

"Sleep, Jesse," Daryl told him in a voice that was almost forceful, almost commanding. Jesse was surprised to find he liked that. "Sleep now."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part Ten**

When Jesse opened his eyes the next morning, Daryl was already packing and preparing them to head out to talk to Ed's "friend".

"What's this guy's name?" Jesse asked, before flinching back slightly, hearing Mr. White's voice in his head, asking him why a rat like him would ask questions.

"He goes by Buck," Daryl explained, "I don't know if he really has much of a name, other than that. Then again in this business… that's pretty usual."

Jesse pulled off the blanket and smiled, remembering the times he had called himself "Diesel". It seemed silly now, in retrospect – but it had seemed pretty bad-ass at the time.

They didn't talk much on the ride to Buck's house, which turned out to be a dilapidated rowhome with an overturned shopping cart in the front yard.

"Stay behind me, in case things get funny," Daryl growled, and Jesse was all too happy to oblige. Daryl jogged up the stone steps and pressed his finger to the doorbell. "Motherfucker shoulda fixed this damn thing," he grumbled when they heard no sound ring out from inside the house.

"Maybe he doesn't want to be disturbed," Jesse suggested. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest – what if this all went wrong? What if this Buck got hurt Daryl and Jesse was too damaged to do any good? What if Daryl was just another person who was going to die on him?

That thought crashed to the floor about the same time as the front door did.

"What the fuck?" Jesse heard someone exclaimed from inside the house. "What the fuck?"

"Come with me," Daryl said with a grunt, gesturing inside. Jesse stared for a long moment, until Daryl made another, more insistent gesture. He followed quickly, and they soon found themselves in the middle of a living room. The room was rather bare – the only things decorating it were a full length mirror that had been tipped up on the wall and a tattered beige sofa. The carpeting looked as if it had been ripped up, not by a cat, but by a tiger.

There was a chubby, sour-looking man sitting on the couch, angrily drinking a beer. He set it down and looked up at Daryl and Jesse.

"What the fuck?" he repeated.

"I shouldn't have to keep knocking for you to answer," Daryl told him. "Where's Ed?"

"I don't know no Ed. Get out of here before I make you pay for my door."

"I didn't ask what you want me to do – I asked where Ed was."

Jesse swallowed, wondering what he was supposed to do in this situation. Should he just wait until Buck made a move, and go ahead and defend Daryl? Should he be patrolling the exits? Trying to look like muscle and acting tough? What was his role… or did he even have one?

He watched as Daryl took a step towards Buck, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was going to get his answers one way or the other; Jesse knew that much, but he wasn't sure he could watch that process. Not after he had been on the other end of it himself. Maybe he should speak up, maybe he should say something, try and convince Daryl to go another way. Try to convince Buck to run and not to get hurt, or try to convince him to just tell Daryl what he needed to know.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Buck. I know you ain't got much love for Ed, either. I could play around with you all day about this, but the thing is he has my girlfriend and her daughter – so I don't have any time. You know he wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, so why even play at protecting him? Why get hurt over it? Because," Jesse watched as Daryl's eyes darkened, "you will get hurt, and I will find out what I need anyway. So why not just save yourself the trouble?"

Buck made a snorting sound and then looked up at Daryl.

"What will you give me if I do? I'm seeing the stick, but I'm interested in seeing the carrot. Cause if the carrot ain't any good, I think I might take your stick from you and beat your ass."

To Jesse's surprise, Daryl smiled.

"One carrot, coming right up."

They began to discuss numbers as Jesse stared, his head swimming. Was this how things worked, now? How negotiations worked in situations like this? Maybe it had always been this way and the compound had just made him hazy. Or maybe he had been naïve.

At some point, Daryl placed a number of curled bills into Buck's hand, and Buck whispered something into Daryl's ear.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," Daryl grunted. "I hope I won't be seeing you again too soon."

"What are you going to do about my door?" Buck asked. Daryl shrugged.

"I gave you enough to get a new one, shitheel." Daryl turned to Jesse and snapped his fingers. "C'mon, Jesse. It's time to go." Jesse nearly had to reach up and close his jaw. Maybe he just wasn't used to being back out in the world, not yet at least.

It took a moment for him to stir back into himself and follow Daryl back outside.

"What did you find out?" Jesse asked, once he had found himself able to speak again.

"I found out where he is." Daryl sounded surprised, and almost disappointed.

"What do we do now?"

"…Well, we go there." Daryl paused. "By which I mean, I go there. I don't think you're ready to be dragged into all of this. It was a mistake. Let me take you back to your girlfriend and her kid, and I'll go rouse Ed."

Jesse shook his head.

"Not a chance."

"….That's what I was hoping you'd say."


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven**

A strange, unwelcome feeling was bubbling inside Jesse's gut, and he was slowly realizing what it was – curiosity. He wanted to see what lay behind the man who had caused all of this trouble, who had inspired Daryl not only to ride out but to bring Jesse along with him.

This "Ed" had to be a bad man, and evil man – but was he worse or more evil than anyone Jesse had known at the compound? Was that something that was even possible?

Daryl leaned in to rattle the doorknob of the house.

"I can hear him inside. Hell, I can almost smell him inside," Daryl growled. He reminded Jesse of some kind of hound-dog that was going to chase an escaped prisoner to the end of the Earth in somewhere like Alcatraz.

Jesse took a deep breath. He was ready for this, or at the very least, he had to be. There was no turning back.

Daryl rattled the locked door one more time before he stepped back a few paces and then proceeded to run at the door with full strength and full tilt. The door buckled under his weight, and Jesse stood there in shock yet again. Something large and powerful, reinforced – it seemed wrong somehow that it should crumble against the weight of only one man.

But yet, then there was the question of who this man was. He had saved Jesse, somehow, and now he would be saving… he would be…

Jesse had to stop standing around, and he needed to help Daryl.

The younger man flew into the room directly behind Daryl, and suddenly it seemed as if his ears were on fire. There was screaming coming from everywhere. Some of the screaming sounded like it was coming from a man, but he could hear a woman's voice, too. He wondered if that was Daryl's Carol and Sophia.

Suddenly he was filled with panic, as if a hand was crushing his heart. He hadn't fully realized it until now, but hearing those yells, it seemed as if his own family was in danger… again.

He rushed in the direction of the yelling, up the stairs and into the back-most room.

"Don't come any closer."

Jesse stopped short, dead in his tracks. He felt like he had been nailed there.

He saw a man standing in front of a tiny little stick of a girl – no more than twelve but probably younger – holding a knife against the girl's neck. Every synapse was firing telling Jesse to run, telling him he could not be in a situation like this again, not when he'd felt the cold hand of death hanging over Andrea and Brock every night in the compound. He couldn't do it again; maybe he just needed to listen to the man, needed to not come any closer. If he ran, if he chose to flee, the girl would be fine and maybe somehow in time she could forget, just like he would try to.

"Let's just calm down," Jesse said, "There's no need to do anything crazy. You have something that… I…" He wasn't sure if the man had seen Daryl yet, so he figured it would be best to leave that particular surprise up in the air. "Want, and I probably have something that you want." But what, Jesse wondered. What could he toss it there as a bargain to at least distract him long enough to get the girl away? And where was Carol, the woman? Was she escaped, or already dead? He couldn't imagine her leaving her child behind.

"You have something I want? I find that pretty surprising considering I've never fucking seen your tiny ass ever in my entire life!" He wobbled with anger, and the knife seemed to press ever closer with every second. Jesse began to shake, first internally and then outward, each vibration becoming readily apparent and seeming to scream out that he wasn't cut out for this, that he should have stayed home or even in the compound where at least he'd been put to some kind of use.

"I was part of the biggest meth empire you've ever seen," Jesse blurted, moving his head, "Or rather, that you haven't seen, because whatever shit you're into must be pretty small potatoes." He felt like a kid dressing up in his father's suits and standing on top of some other kid's shoulders, trying to be an adult. But somehow, it seemed to be working – Ed had loosened his grip on the knife, just a tad. Was it going to be enough, though? Jesse wasn't sure – all he could do was try to keep talking, keep distracting. Pretend he was back in Mexico, talking big.  
"So maybe if you'd like to stop bullshitting and let this little kid go, we can go ahead and talk money."

"I know who sent you. All I want to know is where he is so I can blow his white trash head off!" Ed's scream rang through the house, and the girl shuddered against the knife. Jesse could see a tear running down her face, and he wanted to kill this man more than he'd ever wanted to kill anyone before. Even more than Todd or Jack or even Mr. White all those times he'd fucked Jesse over.

"I'm right here."

Jesse turned to try and get Daryl in his sights, to look to him for some kind of direction. What Mr. White had been or had tried to be or what Jesse had wanted him to be, Daryl had become.

And more.

So there was some part of Jesse that knew just the direction to turn, just the place to stnd when Daryl Dixon effortlessly blew Ed Peletier's head clear off.

Jesse could still hear him screaming minutes later, like he was still in the room somehow.

He would have thought that he would feel more.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hi everybody! This is the last chapter. Thank you for sticking in there with me and I hope you enjoyed the fic!:)**

 **Part Twelve**

"Jesse, hey, are you all right?"

He could hear Daryl speaking, could understand the words. But everything was so blurry that Jesse was having a little trouble putting two-and-two together.

He nodded, slowly, looking up at Daryl with a sense of finality beginning to sink in, at last.

The man they had come to kill was dead. But what did that mean for them? For him?

"These are Carol and Sophia," Daryl spoke again. "My family."

Jesse moved his eyes over to look at the little girl, who was smiling a tiny, terrified smile. The smile of a person who has just cheated death.

How was that something that could be on the face of a girl not much older than eleven or twelve?

"Can we go home now?" Sophia spoke up, and Jesse could feel his heart breaking.

"We're going to go home soon," Daryl promised, reaching out and pulling her gently over towards him. He gave her an awkward, gentle hug. "We just need to drop my friend off at his home, first, okay?"

Jesse thought he was going to break down in tears.

"You don't… I didn't… I can make it home, now that it's done," Jesse stammered. "You should get back to your family. You found them, now. I'll go find mine…"

Daryl shook his head.

"It'll only take a few hours to get you back to them."

"I'll come," Carol said with a shrug. Jesse jolted – it wasn't as if he didn't know the woman could speak, but for her to speak up so suddenly sent him backwards a little.

Maybe he had pictured her as a damsel in distress, but now that he got a look at her, she didn't look like one. She had short hair and eyes that Jesse wasn't sure he was ready to look too long into, for fear that she too would reach out and snap his neck.

Jesse had been afraid of far too many people lately.

"Carol, you should head home and wait for me… Everything's going to be all right, now," Daryl told her. "He's gone. But we all need to get out of here before the cops get here."

"We're going home, Daryl?" Sophia hadn't taken her wide eyes off of Jesse. He wondered what he must look like – would Brock be afraid of him, too? Maybe he should leave them all and go live in the woods or something.

"We're going home," Daryl agreed. "But our first stop… Albuquerque."

* * *

The car pulled up in front of Andrea's house, and Jesse couldn't move for a long while. What was he supposed to do now? When they had been traveling, he was able to focus on only putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe he hadn't actually expected to make it out of this alive.

And now, here he was, here and terrified and what was he going to do? What could he even say to them after he had put them in danger?

"They probably miss you," Sophia spoke up, noticing Jesse's reluctance.

"We should go. We should go back, I can't…" Jesse began. He could feel his neck heating up; he was sure that he was about to pass out or burst into tears or something like that.

"Go get 'em," Daryl spoke up, and Jesse looked at him.

He managed a small smile.

He would miss Daryl. That is, if Andrea would have him.

Jesse made his way out of the car, slowly, then shuffled up to the front door. Maybe they had moved – maybe they weren't even there anymore.

He reached out and gently knocked on the front door, ready to jump back as if it could burn him.

He looked to make sure that Daryl was still waiting – to his relief, he saw that he was. The older man was flashing him an encouraging smile, and Jesse wondered again about what was next – was he just meant to never see this man again after all this had happened? Were they just supposed to go their separate ways and Jesse would never think about what all this had meant to him?

About what Daryl had meant to him…

There were so many times when he could have acted but hadn't.

How could he leave him now? Maybe he should just run back there and throw himself into the other man's arms – maybe that was the only "right thing" left to do. But Daryl had Carol and Sophia now, and Jesse had Andrea and Brock.

Maybe, he did.

He could hear footsteps behind the door. He almost turned tail and ran – the world's worst game of ding-dong-ditch, he thought to himself.

Jesse could feel his legs shaking. When he saw her, maybe he would just burst into tears or melt into a puddle.

The door opened, and he found himself starring into Andrea Cantillo's big, brown eyes.

He couldn't speak. His mouth was dry. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach that threatened to bowl him over or throw him into a ball. But he had to speak. He had to tell her something, but what? What kind of words could make anything that had happened okay? What words could erase the poloroid picture from his mind?

What words could make him stop wanting to run back to Daryl, cling to him and never leave?

"Jesse!"

Andrea threw her arms around him, hugging him so tight that he feared his ribs might crack or that he'd stop breathing.

"You're alive. You're alive." She was whispering it against his ears and he must have been whispering it back because she didn't seem real, she seemed like an angel or a hallucination or something he didn't know how to code yet.

Suddenly, Jesse startled. He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there. His eyes were wet; he must have started sobbing at some point, but no one had moved to stop him.

He looked out to the car to see Daryl still looking at him, and he felt every sense in his body telling him what he needed to do.

"Andrea," he whispered. "Grab Brock and come with me. We're going to leave here. We're going… We're… and this is my friend, Daryl. We'll be safe with him."

And looking at her then, he knew she would listen.

And he would too.


End file.
